Epilogue
by Teenwitch
Summary: A farewell is necessary before you can meet again.


**Title: **Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **CSI belongs to Anthony E. Zuiker, CBS, Jerry Bruckheimer, ect.

**Summary:** A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. Warning – angst ahead. The ending's what you'd call bittersweet, I suppose.

**Author's Note: **Yeah, I was a little down when I wrote this one. AndI was really just trying to find a way to get myself out of some _serious_ writer's block. I don't really know _what_ you will think of it. This is how I sort of envisioned the show ending in my darker, Carol-Mendelsohn-angry moments – though I definitely do not want it to really end this way.

**000000000**

Grissom's fingers lingered over the box as he finally closed the flap on the last of his possessions, a culmination of years worth of unique collections and past experiments kept for display.

"So. One final goodbye, huh?"

He glanced around at Catherine's low, wry drawl, a distant smile tugging at his lips.

"Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."

"Right…" she trailed off slowly, shaking her head. She came to a stop beside him, grazing her knuckles absently over the wood grain surface of his desk.

The emptiness of his office was eerie to her. It was as much a fixture of the lab as the break room, a place where she and Grissom had shared some of their most intimate and heated discussions. She didn't even want to have to imagine another person inhabiting its walls, cluttering the steel shelves with trophies and an array of qualifications proving their merit there, instead of eccentric, mildly disturbing fetal pig remains and left-over experiments, objects she had merely taken for granted.

Grissom seemed quietly contemplative as he drew the last box to the edge of the table, glancing at the empty walls. She hesitated to interrupt his obvious nostalgia; a more than unusual trait in him; but it was time. "Gil… the guys are waiting in the breakroom."

Grissom glanced at her. She had always known he didn't want a huge fuss when he left the lab, but that was too damn bad. It wasn't like they were going to have a cake or anything. He was the glue of their pseudo family, and they needed to say their goodbyes. He had to give them that.

Grissom must have seen some of the fierce determination in her eyes, because he wisely decided to remain silent. He gave his office one last sweeping glance, hefting up the box of his belongings and following her into the hall.

Several lab techs offered them fleeting nods as they passed, and a few offered pleasant goodbyes. Grissom accepted their words with a silent, amiable nod, and she could tell he didn't understand why he was under so much sudden attention. She sighed. He would never get it. He would never understand his importance in this lab, or in the lives of all those around him.

The atmosphere in the breakroom bore the gloom of a funeral party, with all four of its occupants staring glumly at the floor.

They gazed up as Catherine and Grissom made their entrance, clearly concealing their feelings for Grissom's benefit.

Grissom slid the box on the edge of the conference table, lifting an eyebrow at them all calmly. Inwardly, he felt an incredible sadness.

They had decided unanimously to say their goodbyes separately, and Grissom scanned them all, with a strange blossoming of pride welling up within him.

Greg was first. The once gawky, juvenile lab-tech had now bloomed into a successful, astute CSI, finding his own place within the team. His eyes drifted up to regard Grissom slowly, mouth quirking into an awkward smile.

His relationship with Grissom had always been a little shakier than the rest, and it was obvious he was uncertain how to say farewell. At last, he extended a hand, and Grissom smiled a little, accepting it mutely.

"Thanks, Grissom", Greg said after a moment, shrugging his shoulders lightly as if he could somehow alleviate the gravity of his words. "For, you know, everything. Taking a chance on me".

"I never regretted it, Greg", he replied seriously, and Greg nodded, quietly pleased.

Warrick was next. He nodded, smiling slightly, expression calm. An unspoken camaraderie passed between them, and Grissom knew no words were necessary; no exchange of thanks was needed, or any mournful goodbyes. He and Warrick would always be of the same breed, and they understood each other, and felt no need for emotional exchanges to get their feelings across.

Nick on the other hand, had always been much more personable, and needed the friendly contact. He hugged Grissom, and Grissom gently patted his back in response, allowing him the uncharacteristic show of affection. He had always valued Warrick as a successor, but Nick had always been like a son to him, and their relationship was unique. Nick had the personal qualities Grissom had never had, and were what made him admire him as a criminalist in a way that perhaps set him apart from the others.

"Bye, Griss", the younger man said simply, allowing their contact to speak the words he didn't need to say.

Sara's eyes drifted up to him slowly, and she offered a small, tentative smile as he came to a pause before her. Her brown eyes were a storm of raging emotions he couldn't quite decipher, and he felt the bitter surge of regret well up within him before he could stop it.

If Warrick was his favourite CSI professionally, Sara was his favourite CSI personally. He had never told her that, of course. She would never know exactly what she meant to him. There was so much that remained unresolved between them, but he knew, this had to be their goodbye. Because anything else was just always going to be an impossible dream. A dream of a life… that was perhaps better left a perfect fantasy.

He leant forward, this time initiating the hug. Sara leant into him almost unconsciously in response, curling into him and burying her face against his neck. She was warm and soft and smelt infinitely feminine, and it occurred to him that this was the closest physical contact they had ever shared. He had never allowed himself to embrace her for comfort, to soothe away her heartache or his own with such a simple, intimate reassurance.

Sara drew in a shaky breath, and he turned his face towards her ear, feeling the softness of her hair brush his cheek. "Don't ever change, Sara", he whispered softly, in a husky voice only she could hear. "I'll never forget what you've meant to me".

He drew away again, meeting her surprised gaze with a gentle smile, perhaps giving her this one last parting gift; that he felt for her just as strongly as she felt for him.

Finally, he turned to Catherine, who was eyeing him closely; sharp blue eyes alight with sympathy, and silent approval. Always watching him, up until the very end.

He strode forward, drawing her into a similar hug. She was his best friend, and their petty difference didn't mean a thing as he measured them against everything else she had ever done for him. In a way, she was the one to finally convince him to emerge from his impersonal fog, forcing him into human contact, constantly reminding him of his position in their extended family. Suddenly the reality of what he was leaving hit him full force.

Catherine, in her typical perceptiveness, sensed his sudden apprehension, and patted him comfortingly on the back. "We'll always be here, Gil", she said soothingly. "Just remember that".

He nodded, backing away reluctantly, staring at them all. Slowly, he retrieved the box, carrying heaviness in his heart.

He gave his team one final, long glance, and departed from the room, striding through the halls of the lab that had always been more of a home to him than his own.

For the first time in his life, he was truly free from all of his responsibilities, and he felt briefly like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He was no longer defined by his work, a prospect that once might have terrified him.

His life in Vegas would eventually fade into distant memory, forever treasured in the deep recesses of his mind. He wouldn't remember the bureaucracies, the inner conflicts or particularly haunting cases. He would remember the laughter and the victories, the lasting friendships, and the family he had forged. A quote he heard long ago seemed fitting at this point, and he considered it as he slid through the lab exit, staring up at the looming building one final time.

'Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends.'

**FIN**


End file.
